Page 6 of Meesha & Connor (What Happens In Vegas #2)

I wake in perfect darkness, momentarily disoriented until I feel Connor’s warm body pressed against mine. His arm drapes possessively across my waist, his breath steady against my neck.

The rental house has bare walls, minimal furniture, and none of the warmth of his actual home. Yet somehow, lying here in this queen-sized bed that’s too small for his frame, I feel more at peace than I have in weeks. At least here, Vivienne and Frédérique aren’t lurking around corners.

Connor stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. “Mmm, bonjour,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

I turn to face him, barely making out his features in the darkness. “Morning,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his chin.

His eyes remain closed, but a smile curves his lips. “Quelle heure est-il?”

“Just after eight.”

“Ben parfait,” he pulls me closer, his hands sliding under my t-shirt. “On reste au lit toute la journée, hein? Let’s stay in bed all day. We could order in, watch movies, make love...” His hand slides down my hip.

I let myself imagine lazy Saturday mornings in our new house with its big windows. My bringing home stories from the hospital, the two of us laughing around the dinner table, before settling in our bed to read a novel together.

I capture his wandering hand, bringing it to my lips instead. “I can’t. Remember? My new dress came in yesterday. I need to go check that it’s actually there and safe this time.”

“Ah, right. Want me to come with you?”

“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the dress,” I remind him, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and pulling open the blackout curtains. Winter Bay’s morning light floods the room, making me squint.

“That’s seeing the bride in the dress,” he corrects, propping himself up on one elbow. The silver in the Saint Sebastian medallion that never leaves his neck glints. “Not the dress itself.”

I gather my shower essentials and lay out my outfit for the day. “Better safe than sorry. Besides, don’t you have to meet with a client later?”

Connor’s expression turns surly at the reminder. “Right. Dennis.”

The mere mention of that name sends a jolt of anxiety through my body. I turn away quickly, pretending to search for my socks while hiding my reaction.

“He’s interested in the waterfront property near our new house. I’m not sure I want him living that close to us.”

“Why not?” I ask, working to keep my voice casual while my heart hammers.

“There’s something not right about that man. Comment dit-on... I can’t put my finger on it.”

I turn back to face Connor, forcing a neutral expression despite my rising panic. My hands fidget with the socks I’ve found, rolling them together and apart.

“Not right how? He seemed perfectly normal when I met him at your office.”

Connor sits up fully now, the sheets pooling around his waist. “Just a feeling,” he says. “He asks too many questions.”

I swallow hard, walking to grab my overnight bag and buy myself a moment. “Maybe he’s just being friendly? Or networking? That’s what homebuyers do, right?”

“Maybe,” Connor concedes, though he doesn’t sound convinced.

“Well, you don’t have to like him to sell him property.” I lean down to kiss his forehead. “You’ve been so supportive through this whole wedding-planning fiasco,” I add, changing the subject. “Especially with your mother. Thank you for that.”

“Always,” he says simply, grabbing my waist. “You and I are a team, Meesha. Always have been.”

I lean down to kiss him, pouring all my love and hopes into the gesture.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips, meaning it more than I ever have.

“Je t’aime aussi,” he responds, tucking a braid behind my ear. “More than you know, là.”

I kiss Connor one last time before heading to the shower, my mind already racing ahead to the dress fitting. As hot water cascades over me, I can’t shake the thought of Dennis potentially becoming our neighbor.

The man who could destroy everything I’ve built with Connor, living next door? It’s a nightmare scenario.

By the time I arrive at Bridal Elegance, Jasmine and Jessa are already waiting outside with Carmen, my stepmother. Carmen’s warm smile breaks through my anxiety as she hugs enthusiastically.

“Meesha! Querida!” She embraces me tightly. “Your mama is already on the phone, waiting to see you!”

Sure enough, she holds up her phone where Mama’s face fills the screen. “Baby girl!” Mama calls out. “I can’t wait to see this dress!”

Inside the boutique, I’m ushered into a private fitting room where my replacement gown hangs. It’s identical to the one that was ruined—ivory lace overlaying champagne silk, off-shoulder with a plunging back. The sight of it brings a wave of relief; at least something is going according to plan.

“Thank goodness they could replace it,” Jasmine says as the consultant helps me into it.

I stare at my reflection, trying to recapture the joy I felt when I first chose this design. Instead, my mind keeps conjuring images of Dennis smirking at me across a property line for years to come.

“Oh, Meesha...” Jasmine’s eyes fill with tears.

“Perfeita,” Carmen whispers, her Brazilian accent thickening with emotion.

My mother on the screen covers her mouth. “My beautiful girl. You look just like an angel.”

Their reactions pierce through my anxiety, making this moment real. I’m marrying Connor. Despite everything, he still wants me. The thought brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

“The dress was made for you,” Jessa says, smoothing down the train. “Connor’s going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

“If he’s still speaking to me by then,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

“What does that mean?” Mama asks from the phone.

“Nothing. Just wedding jitters,” I deflect, turning to examine the back of the dress.

Carmen squeezes my hand. “Every bride gets nervous, querida. It’s normal.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” I suggest, desperate to change the subject. “What do you think about switching the bridesmaids’ dresses from teal to sea foam? The sample color looked different in person.”

Jasmine holds up fabric swatches against her skin. “I think sea foam would be prettier with the flowers you’ve chosen.”

We’re debating shades when the boutique door chimes. I freeze as I hear a familiar French-Canadian accent.

“Ah, there you are!”

Vivienne glides into the fitting area with Frédérique trailing behind her. My stomach drops.

“Vivienne,” I manage, “what a surprise.”

“Clearly,” she replies, her smile tight. “I saw the car my Connor bought you parked outside and decided to come in. I can’t help but notice every important woman in your life is here for this moment.” She gestures around the room. “Everyone except your future mother-in-law.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, not entirely meaning it. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Not interested in my son’s wedding? Ma chère, how could you think that?” Vivienne circles me slowly, inspecting the dress. “It’s quite... revealing, isn’t it?”

Carmen straightens. “It’s elegant and beautiful.”

“Perhaps in Brazil,” Vivienne says dismissively. “But for my only son’s wedding? Something less risqué would be more appropriate.”

“Vivienne,” my mother’s voice cuts sharply through the phone. “My daughter looks beautiful. The dress is perfect.”

As Vivienne continues her critique, I feel my secrets pressing in around me, threatening to spill out. If she knew what I’d done in Vegas, she’d have the ammunition she needs to convince Connor I’m not worthy of him.

“Actually,” Frédérique says as she interjects unexpectedly, “I find the dress is très élégante.”

All eyes turn to her.

“Merci,” I say quietly.

Vivienne’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “Well, we all have different tastes.”

The tension hangs in the air for a moment before my consultant tactfully suggests we move on to discussing veil options. The rest of the fitting passes in a blur of strained politeness, with Vivienne making subtle digs that Carmen and my mother counter with increasing irritation.

Three days later, Winter Bay is under a blizzard warning. Fat snowflakes swirl violently past the hospital windows as I hurry toward the cafeteria for my lunch break. The psychiatric ward has been unusually busy, with the weather triggering anxiety in several patients.

I’m scrolling through weather alerts on my phone, mentally rearranging the remaining wedding tasks on my wedding countdown checklist when I collide with someone, nearly dropping my phone.

“I’m so sorry—”

My apology dies as I look up into Dennis’s blue-gray eyes.

“Meesha,” he says with a smile. “Must be fate.”

My eyes immediately dart to the hallway behind him, seeking the nearest exit. The elevator is too far, requiring me to walk past him, but the stairwell door is just fifteen feet to my right.

I take a step backward. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting,” he says smoothly, adjusting his coat. “I have a meeting with Connor, but have an hour to kill. Join me for lunch?”

Something in his demeanor feels off. His clothes are rumpled, and there’s an intensity in his eyes. My mouth goes dry as he takes a step closer, shrinking the space between us.

“Oh, um, I actually just finished lunch,” I lie, forcing a polite smile while my stomach twists into knots. “But thank you for the offer.”

I try to sidestep him, but he shifts his weight, blocking my path. “Come on, Meesha. We should talk about our situation.”

I glance around desperately, hoping to catch sight of a colleague or anyone who might interrupt this moment. “There is no situation,” I hiss, looking around to ensure none of my colleagues are within earshot. “And stop texting me.”

“You haven’t responded to any of them.”

“I’ve been busy with wedding planning,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, reasonable. “Look, Dennis, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. What happened in Vegas was just...”

His eyes narrow, and something in his expression kills the words before they’re spoken. Placating him might be encouraging him.

“How did you even find me?” I demand. “How did you know I live in Winter Bay?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re not very careful, Meesha. After our connection that night, I couldn’t just let you walk away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I followed you back to your suite,” he says casually, as if admitting to stalking is perfectly normal. “Watched which room you entered. The next morning, when you and your friends left your room for breakfast, I followed you.”

My stomach drops as the memory of Jessa, Jasmine and I discussing our return flights to Winter Bay, laughing about how we’d need to readjust to the cold after Vegas heat.

“You eavesdropped on our conversation,” I whisper, the full horror dawning on me.

He nods, looking pleased with himself. “You mentioned Winter Bay several times.” His eyes glint with satisfaction. “It wasn’t hard to find this place after following you to the airport.”

I feel sick. “That’s—that’s stalking.”

“I prefer to call it fate,” he says, reaching out to touch my arm. I jerk away. “We were meant to be together, Meesha. I knew it the moment I saw you in that bar.”

“You’ve been following me for weeks?”

“I’ve been patient,” he corrects. “Learning your routines. Watching you with him.” His expression darkens. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing,” I say firmly. “I’m engaged.”

“For now.” His casual tone makes my blood boil. “I’ve got twenty-five days till the wedding. Plenty of time to change your mind.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “I love Connor.”

“But you kissed me.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “People who are truly in love don’t kiss other men.”

“Listen carefully,” I say, keeping my voice low but intense. “I’m going to marry Connor. Nothing you say or do will change that. So stop texting me, stop this ridiculous pursuit, and leave us alone.”

His smile doesn’t falter. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Meesha. I know we’re meant to be together.”

“You’re delusional.”

“And you’re in denial.” He walks away, leaving me standing in the hallway, my appetite gone and my hands shaking with rage and fear.